


once upon a thrill

by OpportunisticHag



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Age Difference, Awkward Crush, Car Sex, Daddy Kink, Dark Betty Cooper, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Hand Jobs, Making Out, Masturbation, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Restraining, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, betty veronica and sweet pea all make out at one point because why the fuck not, gearhead betty because she's just the best, hints of her at least, jb is basically a sassy mini jug accidentally getting herself into trouble, sex all over the trailer basically, skater betty because she wasn't included in the show and WE DESERVE HER, the seduction of FP Jones, two short mentions of daddy kink anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 06:29:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15067181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpportunisticHag/pseuds/OpportunisticHag
Summary: FP seems like he already knows what she’s about to do, but before he can stop her, she’s grabbing his shoulders and pulling him down so that her mouth meets his in a rush.She kisses him firmly. It doesn’t last long, but Betty still pulls away with a shaky breath.He looks pained, fist clenched at his side. “Stop trying to fucking seduce me.”An overabundance of tags to avoid any possible triggers in this fic featuring canon age Betty and FP.





	once upon a thrill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [barbvin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbvin/gifts).



> 1) AU. Gladys took Jughead when she left, leaving Jellybean with FP. The most _pick and choose canon plot lines and ignore the rest for my own personal enjoyment_ fic that could ever exist. Featuring Dark Betty in terms of taking control of her sexuality, not so much the murdery kind.
> 
> 2) Please heed tags for triggers. If I missed any warnings, let me know and I'll add them in.
> 
> 3) A belated entry for [Southside Showcase](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/southsideshowcase). I went for Southside Pride overall, but at least included a mention of a few different prompt days.
> 
> 4) Endless thanks to lovely betas [lilibug](https://lilibug--xx.tumblr.com/) (who also made the graphic below!) and [theheavycrown](https://theheavycrown.tumblr.com/) for keeping me sane, and [barbvin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbvin/profile) for waiting _SEVEN MONTHS_ before I wrote this.

 

 

 **Day 5  
** Betty’s mother is already making this the most miserable summer of her short life.

Okay, admittedly a slight exaggeration.

But because she didn’t send off her entire heart, soul, and will to live inside of an internship application, her mom decided on her behalf that she’s still going to have a, quote, “productive” summer break. Which is not the worst idea – in fact, it’s a welcome one.  

The daily Alice Cooper timeline that Betty’s supposed to adhere to is the problem.

Awake by 7:00 at the absolute latest. Dressed and ready for the day by 7:30, breakfast eaten by 8:00. Household chores to pass most of the morning, outdoor gardening and weed pulling if she’s really ahead of schedule. Afternoons are mostly reserved for the mountain of a summer reading list she’s supposed to tackle, when she hasn’t even had a clean breath away from Riverdale High yet.

Of course, everything is subject to change without notice at her mom’s beck and call.

And if she’s not going to pick up a summer job, _it wouldn’t hurt to have some help down at_ The Register _, Elizabeth._

She could always have it worse, she knows, but she hates having to swallow the resentment in her throat when all she wants is to relax, just a little bit, for  _once_.

Thankfully, she somehow always seems to manage nabbing a break at Pop’s with her friends.

“First world problems,” Veronica jests.

Betty sighs, leveling a short glare to her friend across the table before resting her chin in her hand. “Very helpful.”

“I aim to please.”

Sweet Pea’s derisive snort has both girls looking at him curiously, but he shakes his head. “I didn’t say anything.”

Veronica drives an elbow into his side. “Damn right you didn’t.”

He pushes her away playfully before stretching arm across the back of the booth, Veronica sitting tucked underneath.

“FP needs a sitter.” Sweet Pea cocks his head toward the older man wiping down the front counter top.

Betty perks up at that.

“Ever since Jughead and his mom left, he always has to pawn off Jellybean on one of the younger Serpents so she doesn’t accidentally kill herself. Unless you don’t want to be around a Southsider who just got out of jail,” he finishes with bitterness evident.

She doesn’t take the bait, and Veronica doesn’t even look away from her food before admonishing him. “Stop it.”

Sweet Pea rolls his eyes but continues, “I doubt he’s gonna pay much but you’re shit out of luck otherwise.”

Betty shakes her head. “I don’t even need money, I just need to be out of that house.”

Drumming her fingers along the glass of her rapidly melting milkshake, she thinks over the pros and cons.

Granted, she hasn’t spent much time with Jellybean in a while, but she’s a cute kid with a penchant for pulling stunts when left to her own devices.

Sometimes FP brings her along when he’s working, so Jellybean’s often hanging around Pop’s doing her homework or trying to get into nonexistent trouble. Betty thinks that’s a pretty depressing way to spend a summer, though, and would really rather she didn’t lose a limb from risky home science experiments.

With a resolute nod, she heads over to the counter, psyching herself up like she’s headed for a job interview. Experience caring for her sister’s twins, killer references, adaptability – check, check, check.

When she stops in front of FP and he looks at her expectantly, her mind blanks.

“Hi, Mister Jones,” she starts. Solid introduction. Not a failure yet. “I don’t know if you remember me, I used to hang out with Jug. I’m—”

FP breathes a laugh through his nose. “Yeah, Betty, I know, you’re in here every day. Wrote an article to change the town. Or at least save my ass.”

“Right. That too. Yes.” Mildly horrified and unsure of how to segue out of an uncomfortable conversation, she settles for awkwardly jerking her thumb back over her shoulder. “Sweets tells me you need a babysitter?”

 

 

 **Day 7  
** FP makes sure to praise her twice for being a lifesaver, and a few days later she catches a ride with Sweet Pea to the Jones trailer.

Jellybean answers the door, FP so far nowhere to be seen. She’s quite a bit taller since the last time Betty saw her up close, starting to grow more lanky, like Jughead.

“Hey, Jellybean! How are you?”

“It’s  _JB_ now,” the girl asserts with all the pre-teen attitude she can muster. “But hi.”

She turns away from the door and heads back toward the living room, plopping down onto one of the couches across from the television.

“Wow,” Betty laughs and exaggerates a wince. “I remember when you used to like me.”

“I like  _you_ , I don’t need a  _babysitter_ ,” she sneers.

Betty nods, thinking. “Okay. That’s fair. So don’t think of me as a babysitter. I’m just your brother’s friend who came over to hang out again.”

“When my brother isn’t here.”

“Because I came over to hang out with  _you_.”

JB rolls her eyes. “Whatever, I’m busy anyway.” She gestures to a thick book on top of the coffee table, a tome right out of the early 1990s with a terribly rendered picture of a dinosaur on the cover. “I have to read this before school starts because Mrs. Flutesnoot hates joy. This summer already blows.”

“Oh no,” Betty groans sympathetically. “I remember that book. Where any science-enjoying dreams go to die.”

“Right?!” JB gestures wildly with her hands, getting more outraged. “They take something I love and ruin it.”

“I hear that. Her husband is still teaching at Riverdale High, removing all the fun entirely just for pedantic purposes.”

The smaller girl nods enthusiastically. “Don’t know what that word means but  _yes_.”

It’s then that FP barrels through the kitchen, hurriedly grabbing his keys and ridiculous wallet chain on the way, pausing only to drop a kiss on JB’s head. “Be good.”

“I’m quitting school running away from home.”

“Snakes always come out on top when they fend for themselves,” he affirms, not appearing worried in the slightest.

Betty frowns in confusion. “No?”

He shoots her a teasing wink as he rushes out the door, but she can’t figure out if that means he’s just fucking with them or if he doesn’t care that he’s passing along fake snake facts.

She’s not a fan of how flushed she suddenly feels, though.

 

 

Betty’s going to count the day as a success.

After another 30 minutes of determining the good and bad of Riverdale’s teaching staff, JB had decided, “Fine, you’re cool so you can stay.”

There was  _slight_ trepidation on Betty’s part that she was being pranked and may end up with her ponytail cut off or worse, but that was assuaged once she accidentally fell asleep on the couch for half an hour and didn’t wake up with any phallic images drawn on her face.

Surprise nap before noon, no Sharpie ink to scrub off? Win/win.

The rest of the day had passed without much fanfare. Once she realized that Betty really wasn’t there to dictate how she should spend her time, JB had spent most of the day with her nose in a book voluntarily. She had flipped back and forth between a novel and the dreaded assigned reading, occasionally asking Betty for a definition, but mostly kept quiet.

Betty’s heart had ached, realizing JB more than likely just wanted  _someone_ there, and she internally vowed to not leave the little girl to fend for herself for the rest of the summer.

FP doesn’t return home until several hours after JB had suddenly announced, “‘Night,” and walked off to her bedroom, and to be frank, he kind of looks like shit.

He looks mentally exhausted, and once he covers a yawn with his fist, he tilts his head toward the still open door. “Once she’s out, she’s out for the night. No risk in her burning the place down. I’ll drive you home.”

“I don’t mind walking, really. I’m not afraid of this side of town.”

“It’s not the Southside you need to be worried about,” he reminds her. “Come on.”

Betty gives a small nod and follows him out to his truck. They sit in an uncomfortable silence while he drives, and her mouth decides that it’s on her to fill the void.

“You got home pretty late.” Betty immediately overanalyzes any perceived meaning behind her words and hurries to explain. “Not that I mind, I’m just making conversation.”

FP sighs tiredly. “Fangs needed something. No big deal.”

She gathers that means it was certainly a big deal, but she doesn’t press for details.

Frustrated now, he continues unprompted, “They’re all like my kids who have been dealt a shit hand because the house won’t play fair. I try to help when I can.”

Betty bites her lip to stifle an inappropriate laugh. She knows it’s a serious topic but he’s being such a  _dad_. 

 

 

 **Day 17  
** “Babysitting” has turned out to be kind of great so far.

She really doesn’t need to do anything tedious. JB is more than capable of caring for herself, and at this point Betty feels like she’s being treated more as a companion to talk to and and less like a chaperone, which she appreciates.

Even lounging around their home was better than passing the time alone, but Betty  _tries_ to provide some entertainment. Be it the library or the Bijou, she likes being able to take the girl places she wouldn’t typically get to go by herself.

JB hadn’t believed her when, reliving summers of old, she mentioned that she and Jughead used to skateboard through the town.

Looks like she’ll just need visual proof, then.

Betty roots around in the back of her closet, the basement, and the attic until she finds her treasure. She dusts off the bottom of the old skate deck, smoothing her hand over the grip tape.

Nothing fancy, but it held up well and will get the job done.  

Smiling, she grabs her old helmet and sends a quick text message to FP. She won’t need a ride today.

A new problem arises when Betty realizes she was definitely too cocky considering she hasn’t skated in years. Her body isn’t used to that kind of cardio and she’s out of breath and  _very_ sweaty as she rolls up to the trailer park.

Her lungs hurt and her knees hurt, and she regrets everything, and just wants to collapse on the couch.

But JB looks like she brought over a baby kitten, she’s so excited, so Betty compromises and agrees that if JB finishes a good portion of her reading that she’s fallen behind on, skateboarding lessons will follow.

That happens far too quickly for Betty’s liking – she has a sneaking suspicion that most of the content was skimmed, if that – but a deal’s a deal, she reasons. She holds on to JB’s outstretched hands, and they make a few slow laps around the paved areas of the Sunnyside parking lot.

They spend the entire afternoon out there taking turns on the board, JB’s cheeks starting to tinge pink under the sun, until FP’s truck pulls into the lot.

JB’s face lights up when she sees her dad, and he makes to walk over toward them until she shouts, “Wait, stay there!”

She clips her helmet back on, and kicks off from a cement wheel stop with a devilish grin. Pumping her leg quickly to gain speed, she veers several times in a serpentine pattern to make the most of the small area.

Betty’s quite proud – both of JB for being able to pick up skating so quickly, and of herself for doing a decent enough job to teach her when she’s rusty.

Until JB takes a turn too quickly and doesn’t readjust in time, arms flailing out helplessly as she loses her balance and the board flies out from under her shoes.

Betty sucks in a breath through her teeth and winces as JB sprawls out on the concrete.

“You okay there, Tony Hawk?” she asks carefully, jogging across the lot. She doesn’t want to coddle the girl, but of course she wants to make sure she’s okay.

JB pops back up and, other than a small tear in the knee of her jeans, she’s relatively unscathed.

“I’m rad as hell!”

Betty bites back a laugh at her recovery, but can’t keep it contained when she sees tears welling in FP’s eyes.

He rubs a fist against his eyes and mutters, “Stop trying to kill my kid.”

Well, if that’s not one of the cutest things she’s ever seen.

Betty chastises herself. She  _cannot_ handle a crush right now.

Especially not this one.

 

  

 **Day 24  
** JB stares wide-eyed at the solo feast FP places on the table before he heads back behind the cash register, while Betty sits on one of the barstools with textbooks spread out in front of her taking up most of the counter space.

She hated to bother him when her purpose is to help him out, but she was about to tear her hair out from stress and she figured out early on that she really wouldn’t be any help to JB until after she studied for her SAT prep course.

“Aren’t you supposed to be relaxing and having fun when you get time off school? How you do all this extra shit is mind blowing. I can hardly go to work and look after my kid properly.”

She shrugs, only glancing up from her notebook. “I want to have fun, sure, but I also want to go out of state after graduation. Maybe Washington or, hell, California. I don’t know, but I’ll do what I can now to have those options later. Newspaper, cheerleading, SATs – the whole gamut. Expand my horizons and all that.”

FP smiles kindly. “You’re a good kid. You deserve more than this ten cent town. You deserve to get what you want.”

Her lips part at his words, the simple validation enough to send butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

“Pop can handle JB for twenty minutes. Good to go?” He tosses his keys into the air and catches them in his palm, and she quickly gathers her things.

All the lights are off when he pulls up in front of her house – her mom no doubt staying late at work – and Betty can’t stop fidgeting.

“Thanks, Mister Jones.” She fiddles with the bottom hem of her shirt, contemplative.

Before she can talk herself out of it, Betty springs over to plant a kiss on his cheek. FP turns his head at the last second, and her lips land on the corner of his mouth.

She lingers there for a moment before advancing again, aiming for his lips this time.

He pulls back in surprise, hands tight on her waist quite literally keeping her at arm’s length. “ _What_ —”

“I want to. And I deserve to get what I want, remember?”

FP closes his eyes, and Betty knows he’s berating himself for his earlier words.

“Betty... We can’t.  _I_ can’t.”

“I won’t tell,” she whispers, then curls her hand around the back of his neck to hold him in place while she leans forward.

Brushing her mouth over his gently, she’s taken aback by the simple fact that his lips are so much softer than she expected.

He plants a hand on her upper arm, and Betty could sigh with relief when he kisses her back, slow and sweet and dizzying.

She teases his bottom lip with her tongue, and that seems to be the catalyst for FP to finally push her away, propelling her back to the other side of the cab.

Betty sits back in her seat slowly, staring at her knees.

“It’s not—I can’t,” he repeats.

 

 

Well.

He didn’t say he didn’t want to.

  

 

 **Day 27  
** She’s not going to do anything about it.

She’s  _not._

There’s been a lot of travel through mental peaks and valleys after reliving  _the_   _moment_  over and over in the past few days since she jumped him. He reciprocated but she  _assaulted_ him so that doesn’t mean much. He’s not interested in anything Betty Cooper, clearly.

So, she ultimately settles on mortification and resigns herself to the fact that she’ll never step foot south of Pop’s ever again, puts on her River Vixens practice uniform, and heads north.

For once, Betty’s grateful for the diversion that will come from Cheryl’s (now) well-meaning dictatorship. The only thing that’s been running through her mind today is how excruciating it’s going to be to deliver a formal apology, and a personal smackdown about the lack of height on her hurkeys would be a welcome distraction.

Even the short walk to Riverdale High feels torturous when she’s trapped reliving her anxieties, so she tries to focus on small delights. The nice weather is enough for a moment – she basks in the light breeze and the sun on her face, until a small cluster of motorcycles speed past in the opposite direction.

One breaks away from the rest, pulls a U-turn and drives back towards her.

Dread quickly fills her stomach.

Sighing, she kicks at the dirt when FP slows to a stop next to her. He removes his helmet, hair in a wild disarray that Betty wants to run her hands through.

“Hi,” she says quietly.

Wrapping her arms around herself self-consciously, she wonders how badly her flaming face gives away the fact that she wants to sink into the earth and live underground.

No.

She can be brave. She can handle this like an adult.

“I—Can—Should we talk about the other night?”

She’s not brave – she wants to turn tail and run when she sees the apprehensive expression on his face. “Betty...”

To make matters worse, she starts  _crying_.

Tears prick her eyes as the rational explanation and apology she had planned transform into a burning sob in her throat, and FP looks on horrified.

“I’m sorry,” she wails. “I was going to pretend it didn’t happen but I  _can’t_ – I ruined everything, oh my god, I’m a slut. I’m so embarrassed.” As if it weren’t bad enough, her nose is starting to get stuffy and she’s positive her face is swelling.

“Oh Jesus,” FP mutters, seemingly looking around for help. “Look, it’s fine. No harm, no foul. I didn’t...” He trails off. “It’s fine.”

Betty sniffles pathetically and scrubs at her eyes. She finally realizes an obvious change and glances down, puzzled. “You’re back to your bike?”

“Ah, yeah,” he takes a deep breath, happy for the change of topic. “The truck broke down.”

“I can take a look at it,” she offers hesitantly, before gesturing to her outfit. “After practice.”

Cheryl might pitch a fit if she shows up smelling like motor oil again.

FP nods after a beat. “Practice, right. Sounds good.”

 

 

She grabs a ride with Veronica afterward, her friend dropping her off in front of the Jones trailer before heading across the way to Sweet Pea’s.

FP yells out the open window – startling her closer to an early death – that the keys are in the truck, and Betty shakes her head in shocked disbelief before even she takes a look at anything. From what she’s noticed, the Serpents treasure their bikes but completely neglect any other vehicles in their care.

Lifting the hood and standing on her tiptoes to lean in and check the engine, she only tinkers around for a few moments before she hears FP clear his throat behind her.

“I’m heading out.”

“Okay. This shouldn’t take much longer – I’ll go back inside soon.”

Bracing her hands on the frame, Betty looks back over her shoulder to see him averting his eyes, and only then does she notice the suggestive position she’s put herself in. She spins around slowly, not wanting to draw any further attention to the awkward situation.

“Um.” She gestures with her dirty hands, “I’ll probably take a shower if that’s okay.” She’s trying to diffuse the moment by making plain conversation, not throw herself at him again, but she realizes her mistake when his eyes darken.

FP clears his throat again with a nod. “Right, yeah. Of course.”

Betty turns back to the truck, cheeks burning, and works on the easy fix so she can ignore his presence until he leaves quietly.

She can’t stop replaying it in her mind, how his gaze had been glued to her legs.

So he’s not as averse to the idea as she originally thought.

With a skip in her step and a growing smirk, Betty bounds back in to the trailer.

JB gives her a pointed stink eye when she walks inside, and Betty looks down to see oil splashed across her pristine uniform. “Oh, damn it.”

“Just take one of my dad’s.”

The thought gives her a start. “What?”

 _“ Just take one of my dad’s_ _,”_  JB repeats, emphasizing every word.

Betty can’t fucking keep up with the way her own self-assurance always ping pongs back and forth.

“Um, I don’t know if I should.”

The younger girl screws up her face. “Well it’s not like any of my shirts are going to fit you. And that one is nasty.”

Looking down again at the dark stain marring the  _previously_ white and yellow shirt, Betty admits defeat. “Okay. Will you go grab one for me?”

Heaving herself off the couch with an inconvenienced, “ _Ugh_ ,” JB huffs the entirety of the short distance to the back of the trailer. She returns with a plaid shirt, as if Betty would have expected anything else.

“Don’t light anything on fire,” Betty tosses out over her shoulder as she heads into the bathroom.

“No promises,” JB calls back.

The hot water is heavenly on her aching muscles, and she would stay there forever if the cold hadn’t started to trickle in from the showerhead.

Leaving her ruined shirt on the floor for now, she pulls the rest of her clothes back on, hesitating before she grabs FP’s shirt. The fabric isn’t as rough as it looks, smooth over her skin and bringing chills everywhere it touches.

Blowing a deep breath through her mouth, she takes in her appearance in the mirror.

The flannel hangs loose around her body, and the miniscule length of her shorts make it look as though it’s the only thing she has on.  

She looks sexy. She  _feels_ sexy.

Betty runs her fingers over the curve of her breast, inching the shirt away from her skin with a shuddering breath.

She’s so screwed.

Slowly getting her brain back on track, she ties the bottom of the shirt into a knot at the front in an attempt to look more  _messy chic_ , less  _morning after one night stand_.

Though she’s not against the idea.

And she’s back to thinking FP might not be, either.

 

  

When he comes home and sees her in his shirt, he stares dumbly for a moment before turning and walking back out the door, calling out, “Let’s go.”

They’re both silent on the way to her house, Betty sitting on her hands so she doesn’t do something else stupid. FP avoids even looking in her direction, while her eyes are drawn to his fingers tight around the steering wheel.

It’s the image of those fingers that have Betty muffling a cry into her pillow when she slips her hand beneath her pajama shorts.

 

 

 **Day 35  
** She does manage to keep herself under control for the most part, though. The last thing she needs is a restraining order.

FP arrives home earlier in the evening than usual, walking in to Betty selling JB on going to the museum to see the small dinosaur exhibit.

She’d thought of it suddenly while they were having a light dinner, startling JB with her excitement, but the girl seemed open to the idea.

“Oh! FP! I know It’s usually late when you get off.” Her cheeks burn red hot when FP cocks a knowing smile and snickers quietly at her accidental double entendre.

“Yeah, sometimes I don’t get off until after midnight,” he says pointedly.

He always has her home by 11:30.

Betty arches a brow; it appears he is a worthy opponent after all. She’ll have to bring out the big guns.

She shakes her head slightly to refocus. “But since you actually have time to sleep tonight, I was thinking of taking Jellybean to the museum tomorrow. Do you want to come with?”

“Dad, it’s your day off, you have to! Please?” JB begs, and Betty knows he’s already suckered in.

“I’ll think about it, how about that?”

That seems to placate her and she runs to her room, already mapping out their visit.

FP gathers their plates and brings them to the sink while Betty sidles up next to him, brushing up far closer than necessary to reach for a clean glass to fill with tap water.

“So, aren’t you going to come, Daddy?”

FP clenches his jaw and doesn’t respond.

 

 

 **Day 37  
** Even though she obviously knows FP’s work schedule, Betty looks around Pop’s nervously before turning back to Veronica and speaking in a hushed whisper. “I need your help and I need you to not ask any questions.”

Her best friend pauses, but only for a second. “I’ll help and I get one question.”

“Deal. Can you come with me to the trailer tonight? I need you to keep JB busy just for a few minutes.”

“Oh, easy.” Veronica waves away her worry with a flap of her hand.

“Thanks, V.” Betty smiles, relaxing slightly.

“So when exactly were you planning on telling me about your plan to bone the hottest ex-con around?”

 

 

Veronica comes over to entertain JB so Betty can put her half-assed plan in motion, but it fades away when they step into the trailer to find FP leaning against the refrigerator, hand buried in a bag of Doritos, scarfing down chips like his life depends on it.

“I’m starving,” he explains needlessly, but it’s clear to see where the Jones appetite comes from.

Veronica stares at him blankly. “You work at a diner.”

FP cocks a brow. “Do we sell Doritos now, boss lady?”

“Let’s go see what JB’s up to,” Betty cuts in. “I told her you’d help redecorate her room.”

She grabs her friend’s hand and drags her down the hallway, knocking on JB’s open door.

Following a light shove from Betty, Veronica steps into the room and spins slowly to look around the small space. “Oh yeah, I can work with this.”

“Thanks, be right back!”

Betty leaves them to introduce themselves, pulling the door closed behind her.

Now or never.

Steeling herself with clenched fists and several deep breaths, she marches back to the kitchen with purpose.

FP seems like he already knows what she’s about to do, but before he can stop her, she’s grabbing his shoulders and pulling him down so that her mouth meets his in a rush.

She kisses him firmly. It doesn’t last long, but Betty still pulls away with a shaky breath.

He looks pained, fist clenched at his side. “Stop trying to fucking seduce me.”

“No,” she whispers back softly.

She can’t stop touching him – standing on her toes to meet his height, she holds onto his sides and kisses him slowly.

“Jesus,” he grunts against her mouth. “Okay, I give.”

FP is the one who initiates this time, kissing her forcefully.

He sinks his hand in her hair and she gasps – she won’t discover until later that the gross cheese dust coating his fingers transfers over to her ponytail, and by then all she can do is send outraged texts to complain.

Following the quiet sound, FP trades their positions to pin her up against the fridge, wedging one of his legs between hers.

The moment is all too fleeting, and he pulls away before long. His head drops to rest against her collarbone, fingers digging into her hips.

“I have to go to work.”

“Okay,” she breathes, eyes still shut, her bold attitude waning and shyness returning in its wake.

Betty licks her lips, her thighs clenching when his eyes drop to watch the motion. FP shakes his head, giving her one last heavy look as he walks out the door.

JB practically falls in love with Veronica before the night is over – which Betty is grateful for, because she’s floating with her head so high in the clouds that she could faint any second.

 

 

 **Day 41  
** Huffing impatiently, Betty raps her knuckles against the trailer door incessantly until FP finally emerges.

“Hey, Betty,” he says on a tired sigh. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you. The kid is going to a sleepover so we don’t need a sitter tonight.”

“I know, she told me. Can I come in?”

She brushes past him without waiting for his response.

“I don’t know how to make it more clear: I want to have some fun this summer.” She peels her t-shirt up and over her head, smiling when FP’s gaze immediately drops to her breasts.

“Well, you’re getting further to the point each time,” he grumbles, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Betty—”

“So,” she interrupts, gaining courage the longer he blatantly stares at her chest. She turns and saunters toward the couch. “Since you’re not kicking me out, are you going to play with me?”

FP mutters, “God  _damn it_ ,” but walks up behind her.

He presses close to her, his chest to her back. Betty leans her head back against his shoulder while his hands land at the waistband of her denim shorts, thumbs massaging into her back.

She’s already soaking wet and he’s hardly touched her.

Skimming his hands along her stomach, FP mouths at the side of her neck. A kiss just under her ear makes her lightheaded. He drums his fingers up over her ribcage, and Betty has no control over the moan that escapes when he finally palms her breasts.

He laughs near her ear but she doesn’t know what could possibly be funny when her nipples are stiff to the point of pain and she arches up into his hands desperately.

“Sit down.”

Betty shivers at the dominant tone and does as she’s told.

FP follows closely, easing her onto her back so her head is against the arm of the couch before he crawls on top of her. The weight of him is exquisite, but Betty wants more; she hooks her fingers in his belt loops and tries to tug him closer.

Smirking, FP looks down at her when he grasps her thigh, hikes her leg up and around his hip and grinds against her in response. When he finally kisses her, she moans loud into his mouth, squeezing her thighs around him, but he breaks away before she can get any real satisfaction.

Betty bites her lip when he cups her breast, kneading lightly. He looks down at her thoughtfully.

“Has anyone touched you?”

“Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“My—My friend Veronica.”

A look of surprise works across his face before he grins.

“We were at a party. Drinking, clearly. It started with just kissing her but then—” Betty groans when he grinds more firmly against her thigh. “And then her boyfriend, too.”

FP cocks an eyebrow. “Sweet Pea?”

Looking up at him through her lashes, she nods.

“What did they do to you?”

She can’t find the words when he looks at her like that, so she grabs one of his hands and maneuvers his palm to cup her through her shorts.

He goes with it, adding pressure while she cants her hips up against him. He dips his head and nips at the hinge of her jaw before moving lower, dragging his teeth and tongue down the column of her throat.

“Just this? They didn’t even touch your tits?”

“No, I—They did.” She groans when he grinds the heel of his hand into the seam of the denim. “She said that it’s only polite to share, and Sweets came up behind me.”

FP hums, and she shudders when the vibration tickles her neck.

“He pulled me back against his chest and Veronica started touching me.” Betty feels a phantom sensation while reliving the moment, and she cups her breasts in her hands, squeezing them over her bra. “SP grabbed my chin and turned my head. He had to bend down to kiss me,” she laughs quietly.

She recalls how his thumb stroked her cheek when he kissed her softly, before the three of them worked themselves into a frenzy.

“You are just full of surprises, aren’t you, kid,” FP states, not questions. He doesn’t seem particularly thrown by the admission.

Considering her quick descent into madness around the man, she can’t blame him.

“Then what?”

Swallowing thickly, Betty’s mind narrows down to the current sensation FP was inciting between her legs, and the blurred recollection of trading kisses between her best friends.

“And then he put his hand between my legs like that.” She rocks her hips up to press against FP’s hand more urgently, desperate for some friction through her clothes.

She remembers whining into Veronica’s mouth when she squeezed her breasts roughly, her hips bucking to meet the firm hold of Sweet Pea’s hand through her jeans. Her own hands had tangled in two sets of dark hair, pulling softly. Sweet Pea had let out a noise not dissimilar to a growl and nipped at her neck while grinding his cock against her back.

“Did they make you come?”

Betty shakes her head in the negative. Making out with the two of them had been electric and their hands had felt amazing, yes, but they hadn’t moved further. They had all been too buzzed to muster up the coordination needed to work with three bodies.

So where her previous experience was limited to their sloppy but enthusiastic fumbling, FP is steady, his touch measured and sure.

He tuts against her skin. “So disappointing.”

“So do something about it,” Betty whines, squeezing her legs shut to get more friction against his hand. 

Arching up into him, her hands cup his face to hold him steady while she reconnects their mouths. His teeth nibble at her bottom lip insistently before she yields to him, lips parting for his tongue that chases hers. 

FP moves his hand up to the top of her shorts and pops the button open with ease. He slides his hand inside, but over her underwear.

“No,” she disapproves with quick jerks of her head, breathing against his cheek. “Please touch me.”

“I am touching you,” he snickers, grin widening when she lets out another pitiful whine. “If you can’t say it, it’s not happening.”

Looking to the ceiling, Betty blows out a harsh breath.

“Please touch my pussy.”

That grants her the satisfaction of him slipping his hand into her panties, running his fingers up and down along her slit.

“More,” she all but demands, trying to bear down on nothing.

He presses one finger into her carefully, watching her face. “Okay?”

She slams her head back against the cushions, impatient. “I’ve fingered myself before, I’m fine.”

FP groans, “That’s not a picture that’s going to help me, kid.”

Betty bites her lip to halt the sly smile curling up. “No? What about how I soak my hand thinking about you at night?”

He shoots her a glare and she takes in his dilated pupils, black surrounded by only a thin rim of light brown.

“Show me.”

Betty’s all too happy to comply, pushing him over and then quickly tugging her shorts down until there’s enough room both for her hand to work, and to give him a show.

She drops one of her feet to the floor to keep her legs spread, then slips her fingers into her pussy to gather some moisture before dragging them up to circle her clit.

FP sinks his finger back into her before adding another, and Betty sighs, pleased.

Having something to clench around is enough in itself, but when he starts moving, she’s completely overwhelmed and already feels herself on the verge of coming.

Leaning down to bite at her neck, FP pulses his fingers in time with hers. The resulting slick sounds echo in her ears, making her blush furiously, and her movements stall.

“Don’t you stop now.”

His command has Betty chewing on her cheek, and she nods. She rubs her clit faster now, her fingertips occasionally brushing against his hand.

“Please, I’m close,” she begs, panting, and when FP crooks his fingers, she cries out, fisting her free hand in his t-shirt.

“Right there, right there,” Betty urges.

FP chuckles, repeating the motion, and she’s done for.

Her arm flies up over her head to grip the cushions and his thumb takes over to rub her clit while she rocks her hips onto his hand. Her orgasm shoots through her body quickly, pleasure racking her bones. She can hear herself mewling softly but she has no power to stop it.

When she’s seemingly back in control of her body, she’s lying limp on the couch while FP strokes his hand over her sensitive pussy.

Partially because she’s curious, but mostly because she needs a break, Betty pulls at his wrist and brings his fingers to her mouth. She gives a slow lick to each of the digits with the flat of her tongue and all FP can do is stare.

“Fuckin’ Christ, you’re going to get me in so much trouble.”

 

 

 **Day 42  
** Once Jellybean’s asleep, Betty wears a hole into the kitchen floor with her anxious pacing. Hours or months or decades later FP finally comes through the door wearing his Serpent jacket over his soda jerk uniform.

After the previous night, she doesn’t trust herself not to reach out for him when he steps closer, so she clasps her hands together behind her back. “You look cute.”

“Betty,” he says, voice tired while he scratches at his stubble. “I’m not cute, I’m adorable.”

She exhales a laugh but otherwise stays quiet, eyeing him curiously.

After looking skyward for a moment, he closes the distance between them and drags her forward into a kiss.

One hand cups the side of her neck and the other flattens across the small of her back, pulling her impossibly closer as Betty grabs the lapels of his jacket in her fists, slipping her tongue into his mouth.

FP picks her up with his hands under her thighs and sits her on the kitchen counter. He stands between her legs and she can already feel him through the scratchy fabric of his pants as he presses against her

“You’re so hard,” she murmurs, tentatively reaching down to fumble with the button of his pants. “Can I?”

He had refused to let her reciprocate the night before, leaving her with a bruised ego and a need to see him come undone.

FP drops his head to rest on her shoulder. He groans but doesn’t say anything, and for a moment Betty worries about what she could have possibly done wrong already, but then he’s kissing her again and muttering, “Yeah,” against her mouth.

She doesn’t separate her lips from his as she shoves his pants down to his thighs, and only pulls away to look down when she takes his cock in her hand.

“Teach me,” she breathes against his jaw. “Show me what to do.”

FP grunts and thrusts into her hand. “Fuck, okay.”

He brings her hand to his face, close to his mouth. Betty expects a soft kiss or something else affectionate in nature, and she purses her lips when he spits into her palm instead.

FP laughs at her sour expression but guides her hand back down to wrap around him, the glide admittedly much easier.

His hand covers hers, their fingers overlapping. Betty lets him fuck into her fist, circling her thumb around the head of his cock until he moans.

“Like that?”

FP buries his head in her neck, teeth set on her shoulder when his hips buck one final time and he spills all over their joined fingers.

 

 

 **Day 49  
** “Is V coming over?”

Betty laughs, “I can ask her. “

Ever since she brought Veronica over, JB’s been obsessed. Whenever Betty made the occasional plan to get JB out of the house, the little girl was quick to invite her along.

 _Maybe_ , Betty thinks,  _Veronica’s feeling particularly giving and would be willing to host a sleepover..._

Guilty though she feels to shift the kid around like she’s nothing, JB’s more than happy to be in the presence of her new bestie.

Afterall, Betty’s only human and it makes for a great reason for a conveniently empty trailer.

She and FP haven’t had time to talk about anything, not that she particularly wants to, but she thought that sort of thing was supposed to be the follow up.

Then he slips his hand under her skirt and squeezes her ass before he leaves, so she assumes they don’t need it.

 

 

Betty considers her wardrobe – a thin, sleeveless blouse tucked into a skirt, mismatched bra and panties – and she scolds herself for not breaking out some of the fancy lingerie hidden under her bed that tends to get her into trouble but always bolsters her confidence.

She starts to clench her fists, gnawing on her lip nervously until she hears a key in the door and she freezes.

FP walks in, oblivious to her internal nonsense, and it’s as soon as the door swings shut behind him that she’s twining her fingers in his hair, pulling him down for a deep kiss. He makes a surprised noise and puts a hand to her jaw, holding her away.

“She’s with Veronica,” Betty blurts out.

“Okay?” He just looks at her, bemused. “And what—”

She cuts him off, “I want to. I’m ready.”

They’ve fooled around plenty but he always stops her from going further, and she’s fed up.

FP blows out a short breath. “I know you haven’t—”

“Virginity is a social construct,” she interrupts fiercely.

“Kid, you can be all progressive as you want but your first time should be per—”

Betty reaches up and puts her hand over his mouth to silence him completely.

“No, stop, shut up.” She shakes her head minutely. “I don’t care about perfect, I don’t  _like_ perfect. I want to go to your room and fuck you until I can’t walk.”

FP’s grip tightens on her jaw and her head swims pleasantly.

“That’s one hell of an argument.”

Betty arches a brow. “So...”

“Go on,” FP holds an arm out, gesturing down the hall toward his bedroom. “Have your way with me.”

Smiling, she practically drags him along the way, both of them losing clothes as they go. He slams her against the wall at one point, tugging her bra down and bringing his mouth to her breast, and her eyes squeeze shut. “Oh god, that’s— _Yes_.”

Wedging a leg between hers to kick them apart, FP runs his hand over the front of her panties. A single finger creeps underneath to stroke her pussy, and she tries to grind down on his thigh for more.

Betty pushes him away to back him into the bedroom, but once the door is shut the nerves start to come back.

Fiddling with the waistband of her skirt, she looks at FP through her lashes. “I don’t know what I’m doing either way, but... Can I be on top?”

It’s not much to ask for but she figures it will give her more control than if she had to lay back and think of England.

“If you want, yeah,” he agrees easily.

They strip each other of their remaining clothes – evidently FP didn’t give a shit if her bra matched her underwear – and Betty shoves him down onto the bed.

Leaning back against the pillows, FP immediately reaches down to stroke his cock, and she crawls over him, sitting on his thighs.

Betty grabs both of his hands, weaving their fingers together and pinning his arms to the bed. She walks on her knees to hover over his cock resting on his belly.

FP tenses when she settles her weight on him, her pussy spreading around his cock, and Betty slides along the length of him with a smug smile.

He breaks out of her grip easily and reaches between them, pressing two fingers up into her. Betty wiggles, squeezing around the digits, all but outright humping his hand.

She ducks down and catches his lips in a quick kiss, holding herself up with her hand on the pillow by his head.

“Okay, that’s enough, hurry up,” she snaps, with a nip to his jaw.

With a snicker, FP leans over to the nightstand beside the bed, but Betty places her hand on his bicep and pulls his arm back.

“I’m on the pill,” she mumbles against his chin. “Can we— Without— I want—”

FP saves her from her mindless fumbling with an enthusiastic, “ _Shit,_  yeah.”

She giggles quietly before sobering when he brings their mouths together, lips brushing softly.

They both grasp his cock to guide him inside, and there’s less than a second of an uncomfortable stretch before it’s a noticeably  _wonderful_ stretch.

“Oh fuck,” Betty murmurs quietly, her eyes slipping closed. “That feels good.”

She revels in the new feeling, planting her hands on his chest and moving her hips experimentally. FP rocks against her and she startles herself with a moan when his cock hits her g-spot.

“Oh my  _god_ , do that again.”

Betty trembles when he does, and he chuckles while reaching up, gently rolling his thumb over her breast, but it’s not enough.

“I’m not going to break.”

He cocks a brow in response, and pinches her nipple between his fingers. “Is that acceptable, Princess?”

Her eyelids flutter shut and she squirms happily. “Hm, better.”

“Fuck, you’re something else.” FP repeats the action and she jerks against him. “Roll your hips like that.” He grips her hips, dragging her forward and back so that she hardly has control over the motion.

“Good girl.”

Betty shivers and her nails dig into his chest. He sits up with a groan, sliding deeper inside her, and she cries out. FP grabs at her ass while he ducks his head, and she holds him close to her chest as he drags his teeth over her nipple.

She doesn’t come the first time, still too nervous despite – or possibly because of – all her anticipation.

“You sure you don’t want me to pull out?”

Betty shakes her head, nose brushing his shoulder. “Come in me.”

Yanking on her hair to make her face him again, FP kisses her desperately, stealing her breath in more ways than one.

A rush like no other runs through her body when he squeezes his eyes shut and digs his fingers into her thighs, basking in her pride over the feeling of him coming inside her. She watches his face twist before relaxing, his entire body melting into the bed.

“So, old man,” Betty teases before he’s even caught his breath. “How long until you can get it up again?”

FP flips their position, mouth latching onto her chest again, hand diving between her thighs, and a shrieking giggle breaks free from her lips.

 

 

A summer fling was unexpected but certainly welcome.

The only problem is now it’s an itch she can’t stop scratching.

 

 

 **Day 56  
** The gravel crunching under the tires of FP’s truck outside has Betty flying off the couch. She tries to keep the fucking in the trailer to a minimum when JB’s home, even if she’s asleep; she doesn’t need to scar the kid.

Betty plows through the door and is in front of FP before he even reaches the steps, grabbing his hand. She drags him with her as she marches behind the trailer, mostly hidden by the thick wall of trees around the border of the park and otherwise shrouded in darkness.

“Hello to you, too,” he greets wryly.

“Shut up, we don’t have time,” she rushes out the words as she pulls him down for a rushed kiss, bringing his hand up under her skirt.

“Already wet for me,” FP notes.

Betty nods frantically. “I was thinking about you all night – I need you to fuck me.”

“Ask nicely.”

“No.”

Her explicit refusal sparks a new glint in his eye.

“You’ve got a real attitude problem, kid.”

FP forcibly spins her body so that her chest is tight against the trailer, and presses up close behind her back, shoving her heated face against the cold structure.

One of his hands curls around her shoulder and properly pins her, while the other moves to fondle her pussy from behind. He hooks a finger beneath the crotch of her panties, and Betty pulls a lip between her teeth as he tugs her underwear down to her knees.

She holds her breath when FP eases two fingers inside of her. He grants her a brief moment of adjustment before shifting to drive into her suddenly, fucking her with his fingers.

“Is this what you wanted?” His gruff voice lowers to a sensual whisper in her ear.

His movements are too fleeting – she needs him to hit her g-spot, add another finger,  _something_ – but it’s hard to find the words to beg for more when it’s still so filthily good.

Panting, Betty’s hands come up to press against the trailer, creating some leverage to push back as she rides his hand.

“Does that feel good?”

She responds with a deep moan, still trying to muffle the noise, but ultimately unable to keep it at bay.

“You want me to fuck you, Betty?”

She whimpers, “Yes please,” as she tries and fails to get a grip on the cheap aluminum exterior.

“Better be quiet, then.”

Mewling softly when his fingers leave her, Betty calms her breathing while she still can. She feels his knuckles graze her ass when the hand he had been using on her wraps around himself and strokes.

To her relief, FP doesn’t tease her any longer. He guides his cock into her, then brings his arm around her waist. Dropping his hand down between her legs to ghost across her clit, he starts fucking her at a punishing pace, hardly pulling out before thrusting back inside her.

Betty’s jaw falls slack with the motion, the animalistic rutting making her vision go hazy. She clenches around him but it doesn’t add to the friction because she’s just so wet. FP responds with a pinch to her clit and her hips jump to meet the touch.

Panting while his fingers slide around the bundle of nerves, Betty feels her clit throb when a chuckle reverberates through his chest.

She’s never been so turned on in her life, no matter how many salacious factors. Being outside, where anyone could see them, makes her fall apart in record time.

The pleasure cracks through her body like a whip, and Betty’s surprisingly grateful for the trailer holding her up when she melts against the siding with a gasp. Her toes curl in her shoes, sliding in the dirt.

FP grabs her sides, digging his fingers into her hip bones and pulling her back into one last forceful buck of his hips when he comes with a muffled groan, his own heavy breaths tickling the back of her neck.

He presses a kiss into her hair before easing away from her, bringing a quiet whine from her mouth.

While Betty listens to the faint sounds of him doing up his pants again, she holds a palm to her chest, trying to calm her furious heartbeat. She swallows thickly, turning around and tripping over her panties that, at some point, have apparently fallen to her ankles.

She grabs at FP’s chest for balance as she reaches down to untangle the fabric, stepping out of the garment altogether. It’s not like she’s going to put them back on once they’ve been on the ground.

On a whim she hooks her fingers into his front pocket, slipping them inside.

Biting back a smirk at the feral look on his face, Betty slumps back against the trailer once again as she feels his come start to drip down her thighs.

She lifts the hem of her skirt and tilts her hips forward, making a show of how she gathers their combined mess and smears it over her pussy, her thighs quaking when her wet fingers reach her clit.

Bringing her hand up, she trails her fingers over his mouth, painting his lips with the remnants of their come. His tongue darts out to catch a taste before he takes he takes her fingertips into his mouth, licking them clean.

Betty sighs with a drowsy smile. “You should take me home. I have a big mess to clean up.”

 

 

 **Day 62  
** “B, I’m your best friend – you can’t  _not_ tell me what his dick is like!”

 

 

 **Day 68  
** It’s officially a problem.

Betty can’t keep her damn hands to herself.

She had moved closer to FP’s seat when he was driving her home, and he had to pull over because she wouldn’t take her hand out of his pants before they had even driven past the White Wyrm. He’d given an annoyed sigh, then gone off course and took the next right. He pulled over onto the shoulder before he guided the truck off the road entirely, parking behind the brush at the entrance to Fox Forest.

In what seems like one swift motion, FP pockets the keys and slides over to the middle of the bench seat before easily lifting her onto his lap.

Smiling victoriously, Betty tears at the closure of his pants until she can take him in her hand, and FP moves her panties to the side then abruptly pulls her down onto his cock.

Betty cries out, tossing her head back, while he sucks a bruise into her neck.

She wants to see him properly, would turn on the dome light if only any cars driving by wouldn’t be more likely to get suspicious.

Her cardigan slips off her shoulder, and FP takes the opportunity to mouth at her collarbone.

“You’re a fucking little minx. You need to stop this shit.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Jones.” She teases, but she’s the one trying to hold on to a miniscule amount of willpower to not bounce right off his lap.

“Fuck, you’ve got great tits, though.” He pulls down her cotton camisole and takes her breast in his mouth, dragging his teeth over her nipple before laving it with his tongue.

“God, fuck _yes_ ,” she whispers as he brings his hand between them to thumb at her clit.

Reaching up, Betty flattens her hands on the roof of the cab to prevent herself from smacking her head when he fucks up into her.

He gives her shit for not being able to control herself, but more often than not he takes to driving the long way home.

 

 

She should have anticipated revenge.

 

 

** Day 71  
** No one had foreseen getting rained out by a sudden summer storm.

Pop’s is bustling, everyone who had been trying to soak in the few remaining days of sunshine now forced to seek refuge from the downpour outside.

Betty sits across from Veronica and Sweet Pea as usual, while JB sits a few booths over squashed between several of her friends, partaking in a terrifying – though fascinating – eating contest.

Sweets is emphatically dissecting an obscure novel that Betty’s never even heard of, let alone formed an opinion on, when FP approaches their booth.

“Mind if I take my break here?” Before anyone can answer either way, he takes the empty seat next to Betty. “Don’t really feel like drowning outside and everywhere else is full.”

“Totally.” Sweet Pea gives one of the strange _chin-tilt-nods_ that boys do, which FP returns. “What are we going to do about Darby?”

Veronica huffs. “Once. Just  _once_ , I want to have a nice day where we don’t have to talk about gang violence while we eat.”

The guys spare her a silent look before she’s actively engaging and asking questions. Sweets offers suggestions about how they should handle the issue – one of the newest recruits that jumped ship and ran blabbing to the Ghoulies.

FP starts lecturing Sweet Pea on having respect for Serpent Law that doesn’t really make much sense to Betty, and she ends up tuning out. She shifts her weight, ankles crossed in order to run her shoe along his calf.

She’s ruminating over how juvenile it is to play footsie when FP’s firm grip on her thigh forces her legs apart.

Suddenly, she’s very thankful to be dissecting the latest Serpent mishap, all four of them leaning fairly near each other to speak in hushed voices, so it isn’t horribly conspicuous that FP’s arm would be so close to her.

His large hand cups her through her underwear, middle finger dragging along her slit.

She’s wet in no time flat.

Sneaking a glance out of the corner of her eye, Betty shifts enough for him to move his panties away from her skin, and he’s quick to attack. His fingertips spread her lips and then slide around her clit, and she quite literally bites her tongue to resist chanting his name.

Without further preamble FP suddenly works two fingers into her pussy and she grabs the edge of the table, knuckles turning white.

It’s not the most comfortable angle for him, she’s sure, but he doesn’t seem fazed when she lowers her hand beneath the table and gently guides his movements.

Wrapping her fingers around his wrist, Betty squirms in his grasp.

She avoids focusing on anything in particular, her gaze flitting around aimlessly rather than maintaining steady eye contact with anybody, and one of her brief looks lands on Veronica.

Her friend keeps shooting concerned frowns her way, but Betty dismisses them with a shaky smile, leaning forward and reaching for her milkshake. She hopes against hope that if she chews the end of her straw, it’ll appear as though she’s too busy drinking and won’t have to participate in any discussion.

Her face is getting hot, and she’s definitely not a good enough actress to handle any of this.

Veronica looks to her cheeks for a second too long, gaze travelling lower to her flushed chest, before the sudden recognition causes her face to light up. Her mouth drops open with a smile that Betty can only describe as disbelief mixed with a splash of utter  _joy_. 

Betty’s eyes widen pointedly as if to communicate telepathically.

_ “Please, let me fucking have this.” _

Veronica shakes her head, sitting back and crossing her arms with a silent laugh, before she joins the conversation again.

FP taps his long fingers against her g-spot in rapid succession, Betty trying – and surely failing – to rock her hips with subtlety. The heel of his hand rubs her clit and she tenses, lids falling shut against her wishes.

Betty chews the inside of her cheek and the pain brings her back, forcing her eyes back open as she comes and sees stars. She’s hyperaware of her every breath, every heartbeat, as her pussy flutters around his fingers. Warmth radiates through her body and she cants her hips into the feeling.

She presses her thighs together to trap his hand, dragging out her orgasm for as long as she can.

Grinding relentlessly against her clit, FP has the barest hint of a cocky grin on his face.

Betty fakes a cough to drag in a desperately needed deep breath before she’s able to settle, his touch still dizzying despite her sitting motionless. She finally sags back into the vinyl seat, spreading her legs apart again. FP leans back too, discussion seemingly over, and she squeezes around his fingers with a sigh.

Sweet Pea apparently hadn’t noticed the scene or was kind enough to ignore it. Either way, Betty decides that even though he’ll inevitably get the gossip from Veronica later, he’s her favorite friend now.

FP slips out of her slowly and wipes his fingers on her thigh. When he stands, he has his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“I’m back on the clock in a minute. You guys need anything?”

Veronica rests her elbows on the table and folds her hands together.

“How about some of this fine dining establishment’s best pie? Chocolate mousse, cream cheese.” She looks back to Betty with a proud grin. “We all love an Afternoon Delight here, don’t we?”

 

 

** Day 77  
** Betty just wants to be fucked into the mattress, but FP insists on going down on her for the first time, despite her embarrassment.

Narrowing his eyes, already kneeling on the floor and tugging down her shorts, he doesn’t understand why there’s a problem when he’s tasted her before.

“It’s… different. It’s weird when you’re focusing on me there.”

“I have no complaints if you want to suck me off first to change your mind.”

She laughs while she kicks at him, before she eases her legs apart and nervously mumbles, “Okay.”

FP hooks his hands behind her calves and pulls her to the edge of the bed, spreading her knees wide around his shoulders. He skims his hands up the length of her legs before heading back down, the gentle touch driving her mad.

He repeats the motion several times until his thumbs stroke the sensitive skin just outside of her underwear and Betty whimpers.

A boyish smile manifests on FP’s face. He dips his head to her right leg where he plants open mouthed kisses, stubble scraping against her inner thigh.

She freezes when he grabs her hips for leverage, leaning forward and nipping at the waistband. He presses his face against her panties with a groan, inhaling the scent deeply before he nuzzles against them, already teasing her clit with barely there pressure.

“God,” Betty whimpers, grabbing fistfuls of the bedsheets.

FP laps at her, his tongue quickly soaking the fabric. He rubs his thumb along her slit, pressing in slightly despite the barrier.

Her head lolls to the side and she rocks her hips up. “Take them off, please.”

Grabbing both sides of her underwear, he drags them down her legs, throwing them to a corner of the room. He’s back on her in seconds, using his fingers to part her folds before he licks up the length of her with a gravelly moan.

Her hips jump when he sets his mouth around her clit and sucks with fervor.

“Oh, holy shit.” Betty fists FP’S hair and holds him to her pussy, causing him to chuckle.

The tickle has her thighs tensing around his shoulders, but when she tries to relax and move them back, he hooks his arms around and pulls her even closer.

FP dips lower, tongue sliding inside her, his nose bumping her clit while he works her over with his mouth.

“Yes, just like that,” Betty pulls at his hair. His prickly stubble scratching over her pussy is shockingly delicious and she leans in to the pain, grinding against his face.

FP reaches up between her legs, hand smoothing along her torso up to her chest. He palms her breast, kneading, and swipes his thumb over the sensitive skin. He rolls her nipple between his fingers before he pinches and pulls painfully, causing a shock that jerks through her body until she’s bucking against his mouth.

Suddenly he’s curling two fingers inside her with his other hand, and he flicks his tongue against her clit before sucking again.

The full body assault has her crying out, with the occasional expletive thrown in for good measure. It gives way to a series of choked noises when the fire lighting under her skin erupts to a blaze, and she spasms around his fingers.

She’s vaguely cognizant of the sound of her loud moan, and how she needs FP to fuck her immediately, but he’s busy biting an angry bruise into her thigh as she slowly drifts back down to Earth.

“Nevermind,” she says airily. “You can do that whenever you want.”

Betty paws at her forehead, a futile attempt to brush her sweaty hair back, and blushes when she sees the sheen on his chin.

FP stands and crawls up her body, leaving his knee between her thigh, and she rolls against him lazily.

“Thought you were about to break my nose.”

Sweeping a hand over his shoulders when he drops to kiss her, she revels in the taste of herself on his tongue.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, but she isn’t, and palms his crotch through his pants.

He moves away, expression turning serious, and sits back on his heels.

“What?” Betty frowns.

FP lifts her legs and swings them over so that she’s fully on the bed. Separating them once again, he lays on his belly before leaning in and practically growling against her pussy, “I’m not finished.”

 

 

** Day 84  
** JB is usually the one who slowly ambles over after Betty knocks, so she’s surprised when FP yanks the door open. Even more so when he’s in jeans and a t-shirt, Serpent jacket on top despite the heat.

Lately whenever she’s around him, he’s either in his Pop’s uniform or naked; she’s not used to seeing him in his street clothes.

“Um, where’s—”

“She’s spending the night with Toni and Cheryl. Get inside.”  

Oh.

Even though his pissed off tone worries her, Betty’s body thrums where it connects with his as she walks by him into the kitchen. She drops her bag on the floor and FP rests back against the wall, crossing his arms.

“Yesterday you were fifteen minutes late.”

She screws up her face, confused. She almost always aims to be early, but she’s never been under the impression that the world would end if the kid was left alone for more than thirty seconds.

“I think you need to learn a lesson.”

_ Oh. _

Betty squeezes her thighs together and nods with enthusiasm.

“Lean against the table. Ass out.”

It takes everything in her not to skip across the small room, but she manages to walk slowly before bracing herself on the table and resting her weight on her forearms.

She’s really going to need to disinfect the kitchen.

FP stands beside her, the fingers of one hand trail over her shoulder blades while the other rucks her skirt up to her waist. His palm roams her skin appreciatively before he pulls down her underwear, baring her for his torment.

Goosebumps break out as she squirms. When the first harsh crack of his hand comes down on her ass, she jolts forward and a moan bubbles out from her chest.

Snickering, he continues and Betty feels her skin heating up with every blow, each harder than the last.

“See what happens when you misbehave?”

Digging her nails into the table, she arches into the smacks that rain down until he gives her ponytail a sudden, hard pull and she whimpers in delight.

“You’re really enjoying this. Dirty girl.” FP hums thoughtfully. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Biting her lip, she looks up, wide-eyed. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

His eyes flash dangerously.

“I’ll be good,” Betty simpers. Her eyes drop to his crotch, erection straining in his jeans. “So please fuck me.”

Rather than responding with words, FP gives her another painful slap, the impact of his large hand making her pussy ache, and he follows up with a firm grip to soothe the sting. Betty grunts, rocking on her feet, chasing the filthy pleasure.

FP presses down on her back after one last smack to her ass, pushing her lower to the table. The sounds of his belt buckle jingling and zipper lowering are music to her ears. He nudges the head of his cock against her and she bucks back onto him, trying to bring him inside.

Betty groans when he shoves inside her roughly, her spine bowing as her head falls forward while she adjusts to her favorite stretch.

He keeps her legs pressed tightly together, his cock sliding in and out easily.

Already close, Betty reaches between her legs to stroke her clit, but FP grabs her hands and twists both of her arms behind her back.

_ “Ah—” _

Using the grip on her wrists to pull her upright, he snarls into her ear, “Were you that desperate for my dick to fill that tight little cunt?”

Shocked at both the physical denial and his words, Betty gasps, her grip around his cock faltering.

_ “Please—” _  Her eyes well up, and she tries to blink back the anguished tears.

FP snaps his hips, cock rubbing against her perfectly until spots dot her vision.

Biting the junction of her neck and shoulder, he spreads his palm flat over her pussy, sliding her clit between his fingers.

A few tears break free, pitifully rolling down her cheeks.

“Come on, sweetheart.” His other arm wraps around her to cage her in, trapping her own arms between her back and his chest. “Come all over my cock.”

His words combined with another abrupt, sharp smack on her ass make her orgasm slam into her without warning, dragging her into the oblivion that she can’t resist. Whimpering as tremors wrack her body, her mind goes blank while he fucks into her.

Mercifully, he slows his thrusts so that she can catch her breath, and she drags in a deep gulp. Her brain shifts gears, already scheming to ruin him.

“Wait, stop,” Betty sniffs, wiping her face dry, and eases away from him.

“Are you okay?” FP asks, concerned.

“Oh, yes.”

She drops to her knees, reaching up with a careful hand to grip the base of FP’s cock.

“Holy shit,” he grits out above her, one of his hands flying to her hair.

She starts with slow licks along the length of him, and tasting her own come on his skin has her moaning softly. She focuses on cleaning him off before she takes him into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head.

FP plants both of his hands against the wall and watches her ministrations, gently rocking into her mouth.

The sight of him looming above her is erotic alone and Betty rubs at her inner thigh before bringing her hand back between her legs. She dips two of her fingers into her pussy and drags them slowly upward, circling her clit and sending a series of tingles licking up her spine. Clamping her thighs around her hand, she comes seconds before he does, hot and thick on her tongue.

Closing her eyes, Betty swallows eagerly before she pulls off of him with a light pop and pinches his thigh. “You’re supposed to warn me first.”

FP crouches slightly and strokes his thumb over her bottom lip. “Yeah, you really hated that.”

 

 

** Day 90  
** In a terribly anticlimactic end, Betty and JB have a casual day in for their last afternoon together. They technically still have the weekend free, but Betty has to save the time to mentally ready herself for school starting up as she dives back into chaos.

She muses how it’s unfortunate she won’t be able to take out her frustrations on FP now that the summer’s over and JB doesn’t need constant supervision.

The girl in question gives her a huge, tight squish of a hug as a goodbye. “Thanks for not sucking.”

Betty laughs, returning the embrace. “I try my best.”

JB skips down the steps ahead of her and Betty points a stern finger, giving the girl a final reminder of which teachers to make allies as she hefts her backpack over her arm and heads out.

“Oh, Betty?”

She turns her head to see FP standing in the doorway.

He has his arms crossed, leaning his shoulder against the frame, smirk clear.

“Maybe you can still watch JB on the weekends if you’re not too busy.”

Betty smiles over her shoulder, those troublesome butterflies kicking up in her stomach again.

**Author's Note:**

> paigelaen - Yesterday at 11:46 PM  
>  _I feel like canon Betty fluctuates between boss ass bitch and constantly crying_  
>  _Which, 1) a mood_  
>  _That's it end of list_  
> 


End file.
